


Two Worlds Collided

by blacktofade



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Awkwardness, Bad Decisions, Blow Jobs, Lovers to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade/pseuds/blacktofade
Summary: There's a new guy at work and Ryan belatedly realizes they've actually already met once before.





	Two Worlds Collided

**Author's Note:**

> _Another fic so soon?_ I hear you cry in anguish. Don't worry, I'm switching gears to work on a long fic, so you'll get some peace and quiet now.
> 
> Also, I know nothing of BuzzFeed pre-2016, so I made it all up /jazz hands. Title is from the song [Never Tear Us Apart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCYtesyE7OA).
> 
> This is for the oral fixation square of my ongoing [kink bingo](https://twitter.com/blacktofade/status/1080688257325625344). Now you guys will know what direction I’m heading in and the horrors that await O u O

“Have you met the new guy yet?” Chantel asks him in the break room. She’s bouncing a tea bag into a steaming mug that has a picture of a cat on the side of it, and she looks intrigued.

“No?” Ryan replies, halfway through unscrewing the lid of his Hydro Flask. “Was I meant to?”

“He’s your type.”

Ryan pauses at the sink, because that's not something Chantel knows. “How do you know my type?”

“He’s _everyone’s_ type,” she explains, which doesn’t clear up anything. When Ryan frowns, the next question on the tip of his tongue, she says, “He’s _tall_. Like _really_ tall.”

“Huh,” Ryan says, trying not to show too much interest. He _does_ for a fact have a thing for tall guys, but Chantel doesn’t need to know that. He continues refilling his bottle and when it’s done, he turns around to find she’s already left.

It’s food for thought, but for actual food for his stomach, he digs through the basket of fresh fruit that’s been set out for the day on a table near the fridges. There’s a banana near the top that’s a little too green for his liking, but he takes it anyway because he’s not about to snub free food.

He peels it and takes a bite just as someone from behind says, “And this is the break room. There’s a selection of sodas and sparkling waters in the cooler over there and usually you can find free snacks, too. We get a lot of gift baskets from sponsors, so if you’re lucky you’ll find an Edible Arrangement in here every now and then.”

Chewing his mouthful, banana in hand, Ryan turns around.

“Hey, Ryan,” Paul says. He’s the guy that showed Ryan the ropes when he was hired about six months prior. Next to him is a very, _very_ tall man who Ryan thinks would classify as a _tall glass of water_. “This is Shane. Today’s his first day.”

Ryan blinks because as he catches Shane’s gaze, he’s hit with the sudden realization that it’s not the first time they’ve met. Shane has very distinctive features — he likes to think he’d recognize him anywhere, but especially since the last time he’d seen said distinct facial features, they’d been tucked between his legs, giving him the best head he’s ever had — before or since. It’s been over a year, but it’s definitely him.

_I know you_ , Ryan doesn’t say.

“Oh,” Ryan says instead, but the sound is garbled because he still hasn’t swallowed. He does so, coughing awkwardly, before mustering a weak, “Hey, man.”

Shane's expression falters and Ryan can sense his world is about to implode around him.

_No, no, no, no_ , he pleads internally.

“Have we met?” Shane asks.

Stomach sinking, Ryan feigns a thoughtful expression for a moment and then shakes his head. “Nope, don't think so!”

Ryan likes to think there's no in between. Either Shane vividly remembers getting on his knees in a cramped bathroom at a college party to suck Ryan's dick, or he doesn't. But Ryan's heart thunders in his chest because if Shane actually does remember, there's a member of HR to immediately escort Ryan off the premises forever and he'll be back looking endlessly for temp jobs in the area.

Shane watches him carefully for a second and then his expression clears.

“My bad. Guess you just have one of those faces,” he says, holding out his hand. He smiles and his expression softens. “Shane Madej.”

Ryan stares at the banana in his own grip, very well aware of how phallic it now appears, and not able to fully process that he needs to move it to his other hand in order to be able to return Shane’s handshake. But his other hand is already holding his water bottle, which means he has to juggle, tucking the bottle under his arm with some difficulty. He eventually manages the impossible and just hopes his grip isn’t too firm or too weak for Shane to judge him by.

“Ryan Bergara.”

“Ryan knows the ropes around here,” Paul explains. “I’m sure if you have any questions he’ll be happy to help out.”

Paul smiles at him and Ryan wants to punch it off his stupid face. He doesn’t need to be volunteered for the most awkward possible interaction of his life.

“Sure,” Ryan agrees instead, because he actually wants to keep his job now that he has it. “I sit over that way,” he says, pointing in a general direction because he doubts Shane cares.

“Cool,” Shane tells him, though Ryan doesn’t think it actually is.

“I should — ” Ryan insists, tipping his head towards the doorway, meaning that he should get back to work.

“Sure!” Paul agrees. “Don’t want to get in the way of those creative juices.”

It’s unfortunate wording and Ryan hates every second of it. All it does is force him to remember the way Shane had looked as Ryan had come across his chin and mouth with a couple of frantic pulls of his hand.

He can feel the flush spreading across his face, so he flees, sidestepping around them and refusing to look back.

As he passes Chantel’s desk, she fans at her face with one hand and tips her head towards the break room. Shane is clearly the new guy she’d been talking about earlier, but Ryan keeps walking and pretends not to care.

*

When Ryan begrudgingly has to come in early the next day for a meeting, there’s someone at the desk beside his own. It wouldn’t be weird except for the fact that the seat’s been empty ever since he’d been hired. And now someone’s sitting there like they own it.

Which, to be fair, it's up for grabs since no one else sits there. But still. It's almost like it's Ryan's additional space now.

He’s ready to passive aggressively ask if they’re in the right place, but when the person sits up and he gets a glimpse of their face, he realizes it’s Shane and his brain isn't online enough to deal with it. He comes up short, startling a poor intern who must have been heading in the same direction behind him. They narrowly avoid a collision and Ryan wonders if maybe he can slink back to his car and call out sick instead. But then Shane turns his head at the noise from the intern and meets Ryan’s gaze.

He offers a polite smile and a small wave, and Ryan feels like a man heading for the gallows as he's forced to continue walking to his desk.

“Hey!” Shane says, too bright for eight-thirty in the morning. “Ryan, right?”

So they’re doing this. Ryan takes a breath and fortifies himself.

“Yeah. Good to see you again.”

“I survived the first day,” Shane jokes, and it’s beyond bizarre.

It’s the small talk they never bothered to try when they'd hooked up. It had been a house party right before Ryan's graduation. Ryan had just been looking for a fun, anonymous time, and Shane had been it. They’d never even exchanged names at the time. Not that they’d needed it. Shane’s mouth had been too full of cock for him to talk and Ryan had spent the entire time biting his knuckles to keep the sounds inside.

Shane had changed his life with a single blowjob and now he has to sit next to him and pretend everything's okay.

“Paul said this desk was open. Hope you don't mind.”

He smiles and Ryan is weak.

“Nah, dude, why would I mind?” Ryan swallows and turns towards his monitors to boot up his laptop. He's never been a good liar and he doesn't need Shane reading anything from his expression.

“You’ve clearly never met the kinds of people who get annoyed that you’ve unknowingly taken the desk they use for sharing holiday platters.”

Ryan laughs, hoping it doesn't sound too forced. “Personal experience from your old job?”

“Yeah, you don’t know scorn until it comes from a group of your middle-aged coworkers who no longer have a safe space to snack and gossip.”

“HR did you dirty,” Ryan says.

“So you can understand my present hesitation.”

“You'll get less scorn from me. Probably.”

Shane laughs and says, “Thanks. Consider me relieved.”

Ryan tries to focus as he begins scrolling through his email, but he can still feel Shane's gaze on him.

When he glances over, Shane says, “Are you sure we haven't met before? I don't mean to be _that guy,_ but your face is really familiar.”

_Fucking fuck_ , Ryan's brain unhelpfully supplies while Ryan scrambles to keep his cool.

“As much as people try to pretend it isn't, L.A. is a small area,” Ryan tries. “Maybe you've seen me at Starbucks.”

Shane scratches his chin, but doesn't look convinced. “Yeah, maybe,” he agrees.

“I think I'd remember if I saw your face,” Ryan deflects, heart thumping so hard his hands begin to tremble.

Shane's eyebrow twitches. “Is it _that_ bad?”

Ryan feels his expression shift into one of regret as he realizes he's backed himself into a corner. “No,” he says quickly, “that's not — ”

“I'm joshing ya,” Shane interrupts with a laugh. “I'm pretty unforgettable. Someone caught me on camera in the woods in the late sixties and they're still talking about it.”

Ryan blows out the lungful of air he'd been holding and says, “What?”

“That was a Bigfoot joke. Y'know?” He swings his arms in a way that reminds Ryan exactly of the video he's talking about, and a laugh escapes before he can help it. “I'm the only one with a free pass on Bigfoot jokes, by the way.”

“Noted,” Ryan says, still grinning. He thinks he might be in the clear because Shane smiles then and turns back to his computer as it pings to signify a new email.

He only has a laptop to work from so far; IT hasn't hooked him up with his monitors and docking station yet, but he seems happy to be hunched over, tapping at the tiny keyboard in a way that makes Ryan uncomfortably aware of how large his hands are.

Slowly, Ryan begins gathering what he needs for his meeting.

“Have I scared you away already?” Shane asks as Ryan stands and glances at him. For just a second, Shane's gaze rakes down his body, but then the moment passes.

“I have a meeting,” Ryan explains. “It's the only reason I'm here this early.”

“Rough,” Shane commiserates and goes back to his work without skipping a beat.

When Ryan finally returns a few hours later, Shane's got headphones on and seems oblivious of anything beyond his screen. The rest of Ryan's day is surprisingly normal considering he's now sitting beside someone who has definitely sucked his dick and doesn't remember.

It's fine.

*

It’s not fine. In fact, it’s so not fine that Ryan might actually class it as a form of torture under the Geneva Conventions. Sitting next to Shane, Ryan is going insane.

Shane isn’t loud — he’s not the kind of annoying deskmate who clears their throat every minute, he doesn’t try to start small talk with Ryan, and he keeps his phone on silent so it doesn’t buzz across the table whenever it lights up with a new message. Shane also doesn’t fidget — it’s actually unnerving and slightly worrying how still Shane stays all day. Ryan wants to lecture him about how fucked up his body is going to be by the time he’s thirty-five, but that’s not what drives Ryan insane.

What drives him truly insane is how every time Ryan happens to glance over, Shane has something in his mouth.

It would be funny if it didn’t put such a vivid image in his mind, if it didn’t make him think of exactly what he doesn't want to think about: the memory of Shane sucking his cock.

Shane doesn’t seem to discriminate what goes between his lips either: pens, straws, the metal tip of his headphones when they’re not plugged in. He puts them all in his mouth like it’s no big deal, while beside him, Ryan is having a full on breakdown. If it’s on purpose, which Ryan highly doubts, he’s doing a really fucking good job of it.

One afternoon, Shane somehow finds a stash of suckers. Ryan comes back from lunch to find one sitting innocently beside his mouse, like an offering. Shane, headphones firmly planted over his ears, concentrating on an editing job, already has the stick of one poking out from between his lips. There are three uneaten suckers by his keyboard and Ryan knows the rest of his day will be unproductive.

He spends an hour listening to quiet sucking noises from Shane, the soft clicking of hardened sugar against his teeth, before he has to duck away from his desk and pretend to have a meeting elsewhere. It’s the first boner he’s ever gotten at work and he’s not proud of it.

*

“Hey,” says a voice behind him as he’s packing up for the day. It’s six-thirty and it’s Friday — nothing is about to stand in the way of him and weekend.

He turns, trying his best to look less startled than he feels, and finds Shane lurking in the row behind their desks. He must have come in recently via the back door because Ryan hasn’t seen him all day.

“You’re here late,” Ryan points out, stuffing the last of his belongings into his backpack. Shane usually gets into the office an hour or more before him, which means he leaves an hour or more before him in the evenings.

“I’ve been working offsite,” he explains, moving closer to grab his abandoned thermos and a lanyard of keys that Ryan hadn’t noticed before.

“Heading home now?” Ryan shrugs his backpack on and fidgets with the straps as Shane briefly checks his phone.

“Yeah,” Shane replies, sounding tired. He looks it, too. “Mind if I walk out with you?”

Ryan doesn’t know why he’d want to, but he doesn’t have a legitimate enough excuse for why he can’t.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I’m curious anyway,” Shane says, falling into step beside him as they head towards the exit closest to the parking lot. “I’m thinking you either drive a Scion or a ten year old Toyota.”

“That sounds like you’re judging me.”

“Does it?”

Ryan glances over at him because his tone hints that he actually means _yes, I am_ , but the corner of Shane’s mouth is quirked up like he’s just joking.

“Okay, well let me guess what _you_ drive,” Ryan says, coming to a halt because they’re near his car now anyway, Shane just doesn’t know it yet.

Shane’s posture shifts and his shoulders loosen; he seems to be more relaxed while joking around and Ryan finds it endearing.

“If you say a Mini, I’ll be disappointed in your lack of imagination,” Shane says and Ryan bites back a smile.

“I was going to say a limo, but you drive it from the backseat.”

Shane’s eyes are bright with humor. “Oh, nice.”

“Or maybe the car from the Flintstones? Your feet could hang out the bottom.”

Shane laughs, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Solid joke.”

Ryan absolutely hates how weak he is for wanting to make Shane laugh again and again. He likes how soft his expression turns and how his laughter is a full-body experience. It makes him want to lure Shane into the dark corner of a party again and that would be a horrifically bad idea.

“C’mon,” Ryan says instead of anything incriminating. “Put me out of my misery. Which one is yours?”

Shane puts his hand in his pocket like he’s grabbing his keys, and pulls out...nothing at all.

“Jokes on you,” he says. “I Ubered here today.”

“You’re such a dick,” Ryan laughs, belatedly realizing they don’t actually know each other well enough for him to start throwing fake insults out. But when he turns to apologize, Shane’s already laughing again like he enjoys nothing more than annoying the shit out of people to the point where they call him names.

“Yeah, well I showed you mine so now you have to show me yours.”

Ryan’s insides clench at the poor phrasing, because jokes on him this time, he already has, in more than one way. Without looking down at his fob, he unlocks his car, which is just behind Shane. Shane turns at the sound of the doors unlocking and when he looks back at Ryan, his face lights up in unspoken glee. He looks at Ryan like he’s just been given the best gift ever.

“Don’t say it,” Ryan warns, but Shane’s practically buzzing with excitement.

“I knew it!” he crows because Ryan does in fact drive an almost ten year old Toyota.

Ryan tries his best not to laugh as he opens the back door and throws his backpack inside; Shane doesn’t deserve the encouragement.

“Yuk it up, bud,” he says instead. “Just wait until I find out what you actually drive.”

“The suspense will drive you crazy.”

Ryan hates it because Shane might be right, but he doesn’t give Shane the satisfaction by reacting. Instead, he calmly breathes in the cold night air, loving that now it’s December, the temperature sometimes drops below sixty. They’re alone in the parking lot, but the noise of L.A. traffic is all around them and someone down the street is honking vigorously.

“Did you already call for an Uber?” Ryan asks because Shane doesn’t actually seem like he’s waiting for anything.

“Not yet. It’s probably surge prices right now. I’ll grab some food first.”

Ryan tucks his hands into his pockets and knows he shouldn’t, he _really_ shouldn’t, but he says, “I can give you a ride, if you want.”

“Oh,” Shane says like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I didn’t actually mean to guilt you into anything by coming out here.”

He sounds genuine, which makes Ryan feel like he should try.

“I figured as much since you went out of your way to insult my car.”

Shane huffs out a laugh and says, “Yeah, maybe it's dangerous for me to get in. What if it's harboring ill will towards me now and plans on setting the airbag off in my face.”

“It'll make for an exciting night,” Ryan points out and Shane smiles.

“I don't want to interrupt any wild Friday night plans you have.”

Ryan isn't about to share that most of his Friday nights consist of fast food and Netflix, and sometimes, if he's feeling frisky, his own right hand.

“I need to eat too. Maybe we can grab something on the way.”

Shane watches him for a second but doesn't seem to need much convincing.

“Sure,” he agrees. “Shotgun.”

Ryan rolls his eyes as he turns away, but he can see Shane grinning to himself like he thinks his jokes are the best. He climbs in and Ryan moves around the other side to get behind the wheel.

As he turns the car on and begins reversing out of his spot, Shane scoots his seat back so his knees aren’t pressed into the dash and Ryan hates how long his legs look stretched out, knees hanging loosely apart. He accidentally shifts the car into neutral instead of drive, which means when he puts his foot on the gas, the engine revs loudly, but the car doesn’t move.

“Are you sure you know how to drive?” Shane asks as Ryan quickly fixes his mistake, his face burning from embarrassment.

“You can get out anytime,” Ryan tells him. “This isn’t a kidnapping.”

When he glances over, Shane’s grinning like the whole thing amuses him endlessly, and Ryan has to focus on getting them safely out of the parking lot and onto the street.

“What are your feelings on In-N-Out?” he says after a minute, because there’s one on the way to his place and he thinks Shane will agree to anything he suggests, just to be polite. He’s learned recently that Shane’s a midwestern boy, which means he most likely has manners.

“I’ve got a lot of good feelings,” Shane replies, which Ryan takes as approval because he makes a right and heads in its direction.

Shane’s surprisingly quiet next to him as Ryan carefully navigates L.A. traffic. It’s a lot like at their desks in the office; he’s not talkative and he doesn’t move much. From the corner of his eye, Ryan can see Shane staring out the window and the sharpness of his profile changes each time they pass under a streetlight. The silence is filled with quiet narration from the podcast Ryan had been halfway through listening to that morning. It’s some true crime thing a friend had recommended, but he can’t remember the names of half the people involved anyway, so it’s mostly just background noise.

The sign for In-N-Out appears like a beacon of hope, and Ryan eyes the ridiculously long drive-thru line with disgust.

“Want to eat inside?” Shane suggests, like they even have a choice. Ryan kind of wanted to veg in the car, but he’ll have to take what he can get.

“Sure,” he agrees, pulling smoothly into an open space.

Inside isn’t much quieter, but it’s not long before they reach the front of the line. When Shane orders a 4x4, animal style fries, _and_ a chocolate shake, Ryan thinks he’s trying to prove himself, but then he turns to Ryan and gestures for him to place his order too.

“It’s on me since you drove,” he says. “It’s the least I can do.”

He thinks Shane knows he doesn’t have to and it’s probably not worth arguing with him about it.

“Sure,” he says instead, and makes a pointed decision to add a vanilla shake to his own order, just because he can and Shane can’t judge with his own hot mess of a meal anyway.

They find a table near the back and Ryan wraps his hands around his shake to help melt it faster because it's too thick and he can’t actually suck it through the straw yet. Shane gathers a few pots of ketchup and nudges them into a neat row between them, like he needs something to occupy his hands.

When their order is called, Shane stands like it’s his duty to grab it and Ryan isn’t about to complain. Hand delivered, free food is the best combination he could ever ask for.

“Thanks,” he says as Shane slides the tray in front of him and the smell of melted cheese and grease makes Ryan’s mouth water.

Shane immediately picks up his burger and must somehow unhinge his jaw because he actually manages to sink his teeth all the way through the many layers of it. Ryan’s disgusted and awed at the same time, and he picks at his fries, watching Shane in fascination.

“Hungry?” he asks when Shane stops long enough to take a draw of his shake and Shane spares him a glance and doesn’t seem the least bit shameful. Ryan thinks he might be in love.

It’s actually pleasant eating with Shane, because it means he doesn’t have to pretend to be grossed out by the grease that drips down his wrist as he eats, and he doesn’t get shit for pulling off the lid of his shake and dipping his fries into it.

When Shane eventually leans back in his chair and lets out a groan of contentment, Ryan’s just finishing up the last of his shake.

“Best decision anyone’s made all day,” Shane tells him, wiping his fingers with a collection of napkins.

“Been one of those days?”

“You have no idea,” Shane sighs and when he shifts, their knees knock under the table. “Just have to stick it out.”

“Don’t we all?” Ryan says. “You’re aiming for your own show?”

“I’ll take what I can get,” he admits, “but yeah, one day, maybe.”

“What’s your pitch?”

“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

Ryan laughs because he gets it. A lot of people at the office are cagey about their ideas, worried that someone else might get to it first.

“You?”

Ryan laughs again. “You don’t want to share your ideas, but expect me to?”

“I might be bluffing,” Shane says, leaning forwards, conspiratorially. “Maybe I don’t have any ideas at all and want to steal yours.”

“I was thinking maybe a true crime show,” Ryan starts, just to spice things up, and Shane stares in surprise. “Or maybe something to do with hunting ghosts.”

Shane pauses and Ryan wonders if he’s about congratulate him on great ideas that might actually get picked up, but instead, he starts laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he says, wiping his mouth with the same wad of napkins he used on his fingers, though he doesn’t look sorry at all. “I just — of _course_ you believe in ghosts.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryan asks, but Shane’s expression is soft and not at all malicious.

“Nothing,” Shane admits. “You drive a ten year old Toyota, drink boring vanilla milkshakes when you could have chocolate, and you believe in ghosts.”

“Are you negging me?”

“Is it working?”

Ryan feels his face heat, because he thinks Shane won him over a long time prior, but he shakes his head and smiles as he says, “No.”

Shane chews thoughtfully on his straw and the look in his eyes is eerily similar to the one Ryan had seen long ago at his friend's party, just before Shane had suggested they go somewhere a little more private. The collar of Ryan’s shirt suddenly feels ten times tighter.

He clears his throat and breaks Shane’s stare. “We should probably clear this table for someone else.”

It’s true — there are more and more people pouring in to place orders with every passing minute — but it’s also a thinly veiled escape. Shane nods and Ryan carefully cleans up their mess and stands to throw away their remaining trash.

When he heads back in Shane’s direction, Shane’s crouched down low next to their table, retying his left lace. Ryan pauses beside him, watching him deftly fold the loops together into a neat bow, and he doesn't think much of it, that is until Shane looks up at him. It's the exact same angle he remembers from when Shane was on his knees doing terrible — and yet amazing — things with his mouth, and he’s suddenly taken back to that night over a year ago.

His stomach swoops with interest and he thinks it’s been long enough that it really shouldn’t.

“All good?” Ryan asks, voice strained, even as he internally screams at himself to play it cool.

Shane opens his mouth like he’s about to respond, but then he pauses and just watches Ryan instead. It looks like he disappears into his mind for a second and Ryan really hopes he isn't having a flashback.

After a beat, the expression passes and Shane says, “Yeah, we’re good. Just didn’t want to trip on my laces.”

“A fall from that height might kill you,” Ryan jokes hollowly, and Shane pushes himself to his feet, back to towering over him.

It really doesn't help and Ryan feels unsteady, like his brain knows something he doesn't and hasn't warned him that he's about to miss a step and scare the shit out of himself.

“Ready?” Shane asks. “I’ll pull up directions to my place.”

Shane doesn’t actually wait for a response, just pushes through the doors back into the parking lot, and Ryan has no choice but to follow him out.

*

Despite feeling as though he needs to be on guard, just in case Shane turns his thoughtful gaze back on him, Ryan survives the following week. It helps that a few of Ryan’s closest coworkers are having a Secret Santa exchange on Friday, which means dinner out at one of his favorite taquerias and as many drinks as he thinks he can politely get away with. He drew Kelsey’s name from the hat, and he’s found possibly the best gift she’ll ever receive — a customized and fully blinged out Xbox controller — and he’s excited to see her unwrap it.

Chantel’s been in charge of collecting up the gifts all week to ensure they’re anonymous, and Ryan lets out a low whistle when she opens up the trunk of her car for them to help carry them all inside. They need an entire separate table to balance them all on, and he can’t help but wonder which one is for him.

He’s just settled into his seat with a salt-rimmed glass of margarita, feeling good about his life choices, when a voice says, “Hey, sorry we’re late.”

When Ryan glances over, TJ is pulling up a chair, offering an apologetic grin to everyone else. Unexpectedly, Shane’s beside him, slipping into a spare seat like he just belongs there, and when Ryan shoots a questioning glance at Chantel, she winks and shrugs like she couldn’t help herself from inviting him at the last minute.

Ryan takes a deep drink, tequila burning his throat as he tries to bury himself in the menu. He can still salvage the night, he thinks. It helps that he’s immediately dragged into a debate about the best kind of tacos, and by the time his food is finally set in front of him and he’s working his way through his second margarita, things feel okay.

Of course shit hits the fan, because nothing can ever be simple.

Kelsey loses her mind, in the best of ways, over the gift from Ryan, which makes it even harder not to immediately admit he was the one to get it for her. TJ gets a stack of comics, which he insists are actually graphic novels, and everyone, rightly so, gives him shit for it. Shane gets a shirt that says _no I don’t play basketball_ on it and Chantel looks too pleased with herself for it not to be from her. Ryan rolls his eyes when she glances his way, which only seems to encourage her.

When it finally gets to Ryan’s turn, a solid, surprisingly heavy box is set in front of him and it’s wrapped in paper with little reindeers dotted across it. He glances along the table, but no one looks particularly excited that he’s opening it, which means he can’t reasonably guess who his Santa is.

The paper rips away easily under his fingers and he’s not sure what he’s expecting, but the familiar logo of a brewery he used to haunt in college isn’t it. It takes him a moment, a frown settling onto his face as he thinks about it. The brewery had only been a small startup when he’d first visited in his sophomore year, but by the time he was a senior, it was the go-to place for a lot of his friends. He goes back there every now and then when he can, but honestly the last major time he’d had it was at his last senior party.

The party where he’d met Shane.

His head snaps up to where Shane’s casually necking a bottle of IPA, but his gaze is already on Ryan, careful and expectant. Ryan can’t say anything, mostly because he’s not about to explain everything to the rest of his coworkers, but also because he doesn’t think he physically can because Shane winks, and it’s barely a fraction of a second, but it’s there and Ryan feels ready to melt through the floor.

The gift is from Shane. Shane _remembers_ him.

He doesn't know how he does it, perhaps from pure shock, but he manages to plaster a smile on his face and direct his gaze to everyone except Shane as he pulls off the rest of the wrapping and shows the special edition six pack he's been given.

“Thank you,” he chokes out. “This'll help me get through the holidays.”

There’s a smattering of polite laughter and Ryan carefully tucks the six pack under his chair to get it out of the way as the next person in the exchange is given their gift and begins to open it. Ryan reaches for his drink like a lifeline, swallowing what’s left of it in two big mouthfuls. He’s probably going to order a third if the server stops by in the next few minutes.

He leans back in his chair, trying his hardest not to glance back up at Shane, but it’s like a siren’s song, luring him in and he’s never been great at avoiding the inevitable. As he nudges bits of leftover rice back into the center of his plate, he raises only his eyes to look at Shane.

Shane’s still watching him. Ryan’s heart thunders in his chest, but Shane seems so calm and collected, staring at him like it’s a challenge.

Ryan's never been good at ignoring challenges.

He blinks away and immediately raises his hand to flag down their server because he really needs that extra drink now.

*

“You need a ride home?” Chantel asks as they head outside, gifts tucked firmly under their arms and Ryan glances over at her. He’d taken a Lyft, fully aware that his night would involve drinks. It’s now involved _more_ drinks than he’d originally planned, but it’s still the same outcome.

“Yeah, actually,” he says, because he knows she only lives a few streets away from him and it’ll save him from paying for another ride. “That would be awesome.”

Her gaze focuses over his shoulder and Ryan can feel something ominous looming.

“I’ve got it,” comes Shane’s voice, which is precisely what Ryan doesn’t need right now. “I owe him a ride anyway.”

Ryan turns, his body feeling leadened and not just from the alcohol. Shane smiles politely down at him, like he’s not about to completely ruin Ryan’s life, and Ryan doesn’t trust it.

“It’s fine,” Ryan tries. “We’re even since you bought dinner anyway.”

He can feel Chantel shift beside him like she already has a million questions to grill him with, and Ryan realizes he’s stepped into a neatly-laid trap. He needs to go with Shane and they both know it, because if there’s going to be some kind of fallout between them, he’d rather it be in private.

“Don’t you want to find out what car I drive?”

Ryan really fucking hates him in that moment because he’s already trapped, but now part of him is actually curious.

“Did I miss something?” Chantel asks with a half-laugh and Ryan shakes his head.

“It’s an inside joke,” he explains, and knows she’s probably dying to ask how he already has inside jokes with the new kid on the block.

“Is that a yes?” Shane asks and Ryan blows out a long breath to try to calm himself.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally agrees, before looking at Chantel like it might be the last time he ever sees her. “Thanks for organizing this. I had a lot of fun.”

She pulls him in for a brief hug. “No problem. I'm just glad people showed up. Drink a glass of water before bed and I’ll see you after New Years when I'm back from vacation.”

He offers her a smile and a wave, and she starts walking to her car.

“Ready?” Shane asks him, and Ryan really isn’t, but he still follows him across the parking lot, part of him wondering if he can just throw himself into traffic to be spared the humiliating talk he knows they’re about to have.

“Here she is,” Shane says eventually, drawing up short and forcing Ryan to stagger to the side lest he bump right into him. “The love of my life.”

Ryan blinks and stares at the car Shane’s just unlocked.

“You’re so full of shit,” he blurts and Shane laughs sharply like he's been waiting a long time for his joke to finally land.

It’s a Toyota and it’s clearly an older and bigger hunk of junk than Ryan’s.

“Is that why you’re so tall?” Ryan continues. “Because where else would all the shit go?”

Shane laughs again, but doesn’t answer as he climbs inside, leaving Ryan to contemplate just walking home instead. Eventually, practicality wins out and he gets into the passenger seat, setting his six pack between his feet. If he's lucky, they'll get into an accident on the way home and it'll fly up and put him out of his misery.

But instead of turning over the ignition, Shane pauses and sighs and eventually glances at Ryan with an earnest expression that’s slightly muted in the dim lighting of the parking lot.

“Hi,” Shane says gently. “I believe we've met.”

Ryan wasn’t expecting him to roundhouse kick him immediately, but he supposes he can’t get everything he wants in life. He drops his head into his hands and takes a steadying breath. When he eventually sits up again, Shane’s still watching him, eyes carefully tracking each shift of his body.

“When did you remember?” Ryan thinks he already knows, but he’d rather hear it from Shane himself.

“In-N-Out.”

Ryan blows out a heavy breath because that’s exactly what he thought.

“It was the angle wasn't it?” he says with half a laugh though he doesn't think it's actually that funny. “Being on your knees and looking up. It’s taken you long enough.”

Shane pushes his fingers through his hair uncaringly. “I was drunk when we first met,” he says, as though to excuse his poor memory. “It was a weird point in my life.”

“Is this where you ironically say you don’t usually hook up with people?”

Shane gives a half-laugh and shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a cliché. You remembered me this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies carefully, because he can’t get a read on if Shane’s upset about it or not.

“You didn’t say anything,” is all Shane says, but he doesn’t sound angry. Ryan blinks at him.

“You were introduced to me in the break room at work by someone from HR,” he points out. “What did you want me to say? ‘Oh hey, thanks again for sucking my dick last time I saw you’?”

Even in the darkness he can see the color of Shane’s cheeks change.

“That’s fair enough,” Shane admits quietly. “I really didn’t expect to see you again.”

“And you think I did?” Ryan lifts an eyebrow at him.

“I never got your name back then.”

“I know. I didn’t give it for a reason.”

Shane nods and says, “I figured as much.”

“It was a weird point in my life, too,” Ryan tells him and the silence hangs between them.

“The universe has a really fucking weird sense of humor,” Shane says, an aside, but Ryan can’t help but agree.

“Probably thinks it’s doing us a favor now,” he scoffs. “You think we had a missed opportunity and it's trying to tell us something?”

Ryan has always been superstitious, it's how he was raised, and now he's said it aloud, he can't help but wonder. Why would the universe push him and Shane back together again? There has to be a reason.

“I thought it was just an anonymous hookup,” Shane says. “There’s no room for missed opportunities when you're not looking for anything.”

“Maybe,” Ryan replies, but he’s not entirely convinced.

“Have you told anyone?”

Ryan frowns. “Who would I tell?”

Shane shrugs. “I don't know; you seem to be good friends with Chantel.”

“She doesn't even know which way I swing.”

“And which way is that?” Shane tries and Ryan shuts him down with a pointed look. Shane scratches the back of his head and says, “Don't worry, I won't mention any of this to anyone.”

Ryan laughs. “Yeah, you only do it secretly by buying a very specific beer we drank a year ago at Sam's party and gifting it to me in front of everyone.”

Shane winces and says, “Yeah, not my finest moment. Probably should have just gone with a gift card.”

“Understatement of the year.”

“I went past that brewery just after I drew your name for the secret santa and I didn't really think about it.”

“Another understatement.”

“I just wanted to leave the ball in your court,” Shane tells him. “I let you know I remembered, which is more than what you can say, and now you can do whatever you want with that info.”

“You've cornered me in your car,” Ryan points out. “That's like putting the ball in my court and then grabbing me by the back of the head and forcing me to look at it.”

“You've kept quiet up until now. I figured you probably wouldn't do anything without a little guidance.” Shane pauses and sighs like it's an effort. “Look, if you want to keep this all hush hush and pretend we're just two dudes who met at work, we can do that. This isn't me holding you at gunpoint and forcing you to out yourself to everyone in the office.”

“Why does it sound like there's another option?”

Shane shrugs and says, “There's always another option.”

Ryan laughs. “The other option is telling them all? Do you think email or group chat would be better? Or maybe I'll bring in a bullhorn and get on the roof.”

“The other option is we let the others eventually figure it out.”

“And how would they do that?”

“We could start with dinner again sometime?”

The smile drops immediately off Ryan's face. “What?”

“The meal at the end of the day,” Shane deadpans. “Dinner. With me. Maybe after work one day?”

“A date?” Ryan asks because he can't wrap his mind around what it might actually be.

“Yeah, if you're being pedantic.”

“That's not a good idea,” Ryan tells him and Shane shrugs loosely.

“Never said it was.”

Ryan is honestly too stunned to answer. “Can I think about it?”

“Sure,” Shane tells him with another shrug and a small smile. “There’s no rush.”

Finally, he starts the engine, which chugs for a moment before kicking into life. Ryan can’t help but laugh and shake his head

“Such a hypocritical asshole.”

“I never said your car was bad,” Shane points out as he shifts into drive and begins heading for the parking lot exit.

“It was heavily implied.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do,” Shane lies. “But more importantly, where am I going?”

Ryan pulls up directions on his phone and lets it do the heavy lifting, reading out where to go while he watches the scenery pass. The radio is barely audible, but it's playing NPR, which is surprisingly calming with his brain trying to process everything at a million miles a minute. Shane's car makes a weird noise every time it shifts gears, and Shane just shrugs like it’s nothing new when Ryan gives him another pointed look.

“Such a piece of shit,” Ryan mumbles when they get stopped at a red light.

“Me or the car?”

“Most likely both.”

“That’s fair.”

He looks over at Ryan and smiles and Ryan’s stomach does a weird kind of flip and he thinks he already knows what his answer will be to whether he’ll go on a date with Shane. The car behind them honks and Shane belatedly realizes the light has turned green and finally accelerates.

“Oops,” he says, and Ryan finds himself turning his face away and grinning.

It falls silent between them again and Ryan tries not to steal glances across at Shane, but he feels lured. He’s been exposed to Shane for long enough now that he’s come to learn his stupid sense of humor and he thinks that under duress, he might admit he likes it. He’s learned what it sounds like every time Shane scratches at his stubble in the afternoons, and he knows that Shane prefers the raspberry La Croix over the lime, but he’d probably fist fight someone for the last can of mango.

They’re little things, but they all add up to something he never had when he'd grabbed Shane’s arm at Sam’s party and dragged him towards the unused upstairs bathroom. He thinks if he met Shane tonight, he’d still take him away from the crowd to a dark corner. But now that he knows what he does, he thinks he’d slip Shane his name and number after.

He can’t help but wonder if they’ll still be good together. Shane had seemed to know exactly what he’d wanted that night a year ago. His mouth had been so insistent and his hands so firm. He’d dropped to his knees without a second thought, like it was just something he did, and he’d ruined Ryan’s life in the best of ways so effortlessly. And now Shane has strolled back in and he still seems so sure about everything.

When Ryan looks over again, Shane’s got his bottom lip between his teeth, squeezing it thoughtfully, and he remembers how soft the skin was against his own mouth. He kind of really wants to feel it again. Maybe as soon as he can.

Shane catches him staring and Ryan flushes and looks away, but he can’t escape because Shane’s pulling up outside his apartment and putting the car into park. He’s forced to meet his gaze again and Ryan feels flustered.

“You should come up,” Ryan blurts out before his brain can figure out what’s happening.

Shane drops his hands from the steering wheel into his lap and says, “What?”

Ryan clears his throat awkwardly. “I mean, if you wanted, you could.”

“Come inside?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan says tentatively.

It falls silent between them, which isn’t good. Eventually, Shane blows out a breath and Ryan knows the rejection is coming, he can feel it.

“I shouldn’t,” Shane says and Ryan tries to keep the disappointment from his face. “But,” Shane continues unexpectedly, “I’m all in for bad decisions tonight.”

He turns off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt and Ryan can’t wrap his mind around what’s happening.

“What?”

“I’m all in. We’re great at making bad decisions, right? Go big or go home.”

“I’m home,” Ryan points out and Shane tilts his head and raises both eyebrows.

“Well, I’m big, so — ” he waves a hand between them like that’s all there is to it.

It takes Ryan all of one second to decide he’s not about to let this slip through his fingers. He nods, probably a little more aggressively than the situation warrants, but Shane’s grinning and he doesn’t care.

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “Yeah, let’s go up.”

*

Ryan knows it’s one of his best bad decisions when Shane immediately pins him against the inside of the door when they step into the apartment and kisses him like he’s been waiting an entire year for it.

He pulls back before Ryan can even think to return it and says, “This is what you meant, right? Or am I jumping the gun?”

“No,” Ryan insists, getting his hands on Shane's face and trying to pull him in again. “This is exactly what I meant.”

Shane gets his mouth back on him and makes a noise of satisfaction against his lips that tickles. Kissing Shane is almost the exact same way it had been before and it’s a bit of a mind-fuck. He didn’t think he’d ever get this again, but he knows about gift horses and what not to do with them. So he gets his hands into Shane’s hair and keeps him right where he is.

Shane leans his weight into him, effectively pinning Ryan against the door, and it turns out Ryan’s really kind of into it. He’s half hard just from the thought of Shane sinking to his knees again and giving him an encore performance. The worst part is that Shane actually seems to be thinking along the same lines because he breaks the kiss and shifts like he might be about to drop in front of him. It takes everything within Ryan to curl his fingers around Shane’s upper arm and stop him.

“I, uh, don’t live alone,” he tells him and Shane looks at him in understanding. “As much as I’d like that. We should probably go upstairs.”

“Just like last time,” Shane points out, which really isn’t helpful, but Ryan grabs his arm, as he’d done before, and tugs him in the direction of the stairs.

On the landing, Ryan can hear the low murmur of a voice from his housemate’s bedroom, like he’s talking on the phone. He pulls Shane towards his own room and shuts and locks the door behind them after turning on the bedside lamp.

“I’m all about recreating the past,” Ryan tells him, “but how about we change it up.”

He gets his hands on Shane’s hips and guides him backwards towards the bed.

“Sit,” he orders and Shane actually does as he’s told, dropping to the mattress without a fuss. His legs are stupidly long, which Ryan never really got to appreciate when Shane was the one on his knees, but now he can look his fill and he likes what he sees. He always knew it was a good idea not to shell out extra money for a box-spring under his mattress because it means he can drop to the floor and still have access to Shane’s lap.

Shane’s mouth is slack, like it’s exactly what he wants, and Ryan carefully reaches in for the button on Shane’s pants. He can feel how interested Shane is when he drags the zipper of his fly down, because his dick presses insistently into his fingers. It feels a little surreal when Shane lifts his hips and lets Ryan tug his pants and boxer-briefs down. He can’t believe how quickly his night has changed.

He didn't get a good look at Shane on the night of their hookup. Shane had sucked most of his brains out via his dick, and he’d only managed a fumbling handjob in return — he’s honestly surprised Shane actually wants another round with him. It hadn’t been his best work. But now, he gets to take his time in learning the shape and size of him, and there’s certainly a lot of it to appreciate.

Shane’s surprisingly noisy when Ryan gets his hand around him properly, giving him a few good strokes, just to get him the rest of the way hard. He doesn’t remember him being like that, though maybe the alcohol at the time had muted him a little. When Ryan licks along the underside of his cock, Shane goes suspiciously quiet, and upon looking up, Ryan finds he’s cupping a hand over his mouth to keep the sounds in. At least he understands common courtesy when living with other people.

When Ryan gets his lips around the tip, Shane whines in the back of his throat and Ryan really hopes Shane lives alone because he wants to hear the unmuffled version the next time they do this. It’s been a while since Ryan last gave someone head and he feels a little rusty, but Shane doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He rests a hand on the back of Ryan’s neck and his palm is warm and slightly clammy. It’s reassuring.

He likes the weight of Shane on his tongue and the way he twitches as Ryan sucks at him, like it’s exactly what he's looking for. Ryan gets his hand on the part of Shane he can’t fit into his mouth and tries to coordinate the movement, but it’s not his finest moment. If he’d known how his night would end, he wouldn’t have had the extra margarita.

Shane doesn’t seem to mind, though. He’s watching Ryan steadily, but his breathing is uneven and he keeps shifting his hips like he wants nothing more than to fuck up into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan would probably let him if he were a little more sober. He doesn’t want to choke to death on a dick because he doesn’t know his own drunken limits. So for now, he keeps it fairly shallow, letting his hand do the heavy lifting while he teases the leaking tip with his tongue.

“ _Fuck_ , Ryan,” Shane grits out. “You’re good at that.”

Ryan thinks he’s actually pretty mediocre, but he’ll take the compliment because it’s turning him on to make Shane sound breathless like that. He gets a hand between his own legs, grinding the heel of his palm against his cock through his pants. It’s not comfortable and his clothing is too restrictive now, but it gives him what he wants.

He bobs his head and Shane makes a noise like he can’t get enough. He’s leaking freely now, which, mixed with Ryan’s saliva, makes the whole thing so much wetter. It’s dripping down to Ryan’s hand, which is great because it keeps everything slick, but it’s probably not very attractive.

Shane rakes his fingers the wrong way through Ryan’s hair, starting at the back of his head, and Ryan knows he’s going to look well-used after. He wonders if maybe it’s a thing for Shane. But for as handsy as Shane is, he’s still gentle, and the way he rubs at Ryan’s head is equal parts soothing and distracting.

Ryan loses track of time as all of his senses begin to revolve solely around Shane — taste, sight, touch, smell, sound. It’s slightly overwhelming, but when he tilts his head back, pressing Shane’s cock against his flattened tongue, just to look at Shane, Shane makes a deep rumbling noise of satisfaction. Ryan hums in response and Shane touches his jaw with soft fingers.

“If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you might want to pull back.”

Ryan’s always been adamant about challenging one’s self, but honestly all he can think about is how hot it had been to see Shane not give a shit when Ryan had given him a similar warning a year ago and he’d just continued like it was no big deal. Ryan had jerked off more than once the week following at the image seared into his brain of Shane with come on his face.

Ryan pointedly meets Shane’s gaze and takes him in a little deeper.

“Oh _god_ ,” Shane moans and Ryan draws in a careful breath through his nose and waits expectantly.

When Shane comes, it’s not as bad as he’s expecting. He’s never actually swallowed for anyone before, but aside from some weird tingling at the back of his throat after, it’s negligible. It’s just hot as fuck listening to Shane pant his way through his orgasm. He keeps patting Ryan’s head like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, but eventually, when Ryan’s cleaned most of the stickiness from his cock, he nudges at Ryan’s face to get him to pull off.

Ryan presses a kiss to the tip before he sits back on his heels and Shane looks slightly stunned. Ryan takes the time to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and watches Shane slowly gather himself.

“That was — ” Shane starts before seeming to think better of it and just reaching down for Ryan instead. “Get up here.”

Ryan isn’t about to argue. He climbs into Shane’s lap, careful of his cock and how oversensitized he’s probably feeling, and Shane draws him in for a kiss. He not really expecting it, mostly because he thinks Shane probably wouldn't want to taste himself on Ryan’s lips, but he really doesn’t seem to care. He licks into Ryan's mouth and Ryan gets his hands in between them to unbutton and unzip his own pants finally.

He doesn’t have enough room to get them over his hips, but he’s still able to get his hand down the front and that’s all he needs. He’s not going to last long anyway, not with how filthily Shane’s kissing him and the way he gets his hands under the hem of Ryan’s shirt to touch his sides. His hands are stupidly huge on him, covering more skin than Ryan expects them to. Next time, he wants them all over him.

He breaks the kiss when he gets close, because he wants to see Shane’s face. He’s been thinking about it a lot these past weeks so it’s only fair that he lets himself have this. Shane watches him in return, his eyes slightly glassy and mouth kiss-reddened. He looks like Ryan’s fantasy and that’s all he needs to get him there.

He strokes himself a little faster, a little tighter, and then he’s hunching forward to press his forehead to Shane’s shoulder as he comes with a muffled groan into Shane’s jacket. He waits there, slowly catching his breath and enjoying the way Shane slides his hands around to the small of his back where he rubs soothingly.

“Oh my god,” Ryan says eventually, sitting upright and meeting Shane’s gaze. “I definitely should have given you my number before.”

Shane laughs gently, though it rocks Ryan where he’s perched. “This is becoming a habit.”

Ryan hums thoughtfully and slides a hand down to Shane’s chest, just to feel the quick _pitter-patter_ of his heart. He pauses when a shadow catches his eye and he looks down further.

“Oh,” he says gently, staring at the splatter of come he’s left up the front of Shane’s shirt. “My bad.”

Shane shows off his double chin as he tucks his head in to stare down at what Ryan’s talking about.

“That sucks,” he replies.

“I can throw it in the wash,” Ryan tells him and Shane looks at him like he might know what Ryan’s about to suggest and he doesn’t stop him. “You’ll have to stay the night though.”

“Hmm,” Shane grunts. “I can’t go out in public like this. It’s probably for the best if I do.”

Ryan hides his smile by pressing his mouth to Shane’s own and Shane idly rubs at the soft hairline at the back of Ryan’s neck.

“We could change that dinner date to a breakfast date,” Shane suggests when they finally part, and Ryan tilts his head.

“Or both?”

“I can do both,” Shane agrees.

“I think we did this backwards.”

Shane shrugs calmly. “We probably could have handled this better, but where’s the fun in that?”

Ryan grins and knows he’s made the right decision. He pulls Shane back in towards him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to share feelings, you can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/blacktofade) and [Tumblr](http://blacktofade.tumblr.com/).


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